Alfred Makes a Friend
by FrozenLakeBeast
Summary: Middle school is the worst, especially when you are the new kid in a new country. (Warnings: Mentioned weight gain, the r-word and other ablest language, a boy discovers some kinks he likes (kind of))


**Warnings:** Mentioned weight gain, the r-word and other ablest language, a boy discovers some kinks he likes (kind of)

* * *

Alfred F. Jones is not, was not, has never been and never will be a hero. Heroes _save_ people. They don't run head-first into danger without fear just to have the person they're saving _die_ on them.

Alfred couldn't even save a child.

Maybe he should have known, when the kid did a belly-flop off the bridge and into the raging river below, that all hope was lost. Neither of them could swim very well (they were _10_ , and lived in a pretty land-locked place with summer passes to pools far too expensive to be worth it), yet Al dove in right after him, giving into the constantly persistent urge to _help_.

How was he to know the cut on the boy's head was too deep to fix, or the struggling of the body was not a panicked attempt at escape, but the river trying to reclaim what rightfully belonged to it?

The newspapers focused too much on the 'brave boy who dove after his friend', and not enough to the son of the crackhead who fell. Except, that 'son of a crackhead' was his friend, and he was dead, and _Alfred couldn't save him_.

Three years later, Alfred still received praise frequently, though only from the adults and teachers. He finally gave in, with a bitter, "Yes, that's right, I'm the _HERO_." (A hero for suggesting they play on the bridge: "of course it's safe, I'll protect you, it'll be fine"; a hero for saving the town from unsavory persons.) He didn't have to pretend anything with the students, though. They made fun of him for reasons neither understood.

The house at the end of the street had been empty for as long as anyone could remember. Rumor had it that, when the farm-land the neighborhood was built on years before was developed, the owner of the farm's house would not leave. The architect went through some not-quite-legal dealing to acquire the land, and the owner of it all grew resentful.

He died, bitter and alone, in that old house. His body remained undiscovered for months – until an unfortunate young electrician ventured out to install a box that would bring the neighborhood entirely up-to-date.

No one lived there since. No one wanted to. Not even the town wanted it, to demolish it and build a townhouse, to sell it, nothing. "It;s historically significant," some said. "The land is haunted," said others. In actuality, the house was a decrepit old thing, sagging and full of holes and dirt and mice, slowly becoming reclaimed by the Earth. It wasn't worth the effort.

None of the children in the neighborhood minded. They used the old farmhouse as a fort, for a secret club, where access was only permitted through invitation. (They invited Alfred once, but only to scare him. 'Initiation', they called it, until they had him upside down and naked over the staircase railing, plenty prepared to carve stupid symbols and words into his stomach until he passed out. But that was before his fear and last form of self-defense caused him to urinate on those holding him down.)

Until, at least, the Russians moved in.

Things started looking up once the new kid came. It was a clear night in the middle of March when the moving van pulled up. The driver and three kids hopped out of the carriage and immediately started unloading the van. Alfred could see this strange even unfold from his window, while he was supposed to be doing his Pre-Algebra. The street lamp illuminated the run-down house, making it easy to see through the not-yet-budded trees. Al soon gave up on his homework and on spying, and went to bed thinking of how strange these new neighbors were.

The new kids didn't show up at school for a while after that. After the first three days, Alfred mostly forgot about them. Save for the occasional spying through the window, he didn't even glance in their house's direction.

On the first day of the kids' second week, they appeared at the bus stop. Alfred, busy counting dried up worms on the sidewalk and trying to avoid his usual bully's attention, failed to notice the trio shuffling up the street. In fact, Alfred didn't even notice anything out of the ordinary until he was sitting in his seat (alone, as always) and a ruckus occurred at the front of the bus.

"Two people per seat! No more than two, one of you's gotta move!" The bus driver shouted, as he stood up and faced the seat behind him. "Let me see your bus passes."

The biggest girl, squished up against the window and looking terrified, whispered something to her siblings. They shuffled around, got their backpacks (stowed under their seat), and got out their passes. They all handed the passes to the bus driver, who frowned at them.

"That one's for the high school. And that ones for elementary. This is the middle school bus, the others don't come for a half-hour yet."

At that, the biggest girl let out a horrible wail. There was murmuring among the three, and the smallest girl (squished in the middle) clung violently to her brother.

"You can get off and wait just right outside. The high school bus comes soon, and then elementary."

The three stood up at the urging of the driver and shuffled out into the aisle. The girls slowly walked out, leaving the boy standing confused.

Alfred, for some reason, waved.

The boy looked over. He didn't wave back or smile, just looked. The bus driver grumbled something into his radio about running late. Alfred waved again, motioning the boy to come over. The bus driver shouted to the boy to sit down, the bus lurched forward, the boy stumbles, and the bus erupted into laughter.

"Over here!" yelled Alfred, frantically waving his arms. The boy moved to sit with him to a chorus of "Sit with Allie!" and "You'll break the seat if you both sit there!" The boy seemed to pay no mind to the jeers as he sat next to Alfred, stowing his backpack under the seat and twisting so his long legs were in the aisle.

"Why'd you do that?" asked Al, "Don't you know the floor is dirty?"

The boy just looked at him. He nodded solemnly.

"Ookay? Well whatever. You're gonna have a dirty bag. Not my problem." Alfred turned away and rested his head on the window, wondering if he could take a five-minute nap before they got to school and thoroughly regretting trying to be nice to anyone.

Someone tapped his shoulder. He ignored it. Someone touched his arm. He turned.

"Thank you. For...for sit."

Alfred didn't expect that. It was the first time he heard the kid speak, and honestly didn't know what to make of it. So, he mustered up a very intelligent "Uh. Sure, dude. No probs," and they sat in silence.

Then, Alfred remembered How To Be Polite. He shot up into the straightest sitting position he could muster on a bus seat, stuck out his hand to be shaken, and said, "But anyway, howdy! I'm Alfred F. Jones. I watched you move in the other day."

The boy gave him a blank look. Al tried again. "I'm Alfred." Nothing changed. Al began severely doubting this kid's understanding of what Al said, and didn't know what to do but point to himself and say his name. So he did.

Realization hit the boy like a truck. "Ivan," he said, pointing to his chest.

And then they were at school.

When they pulled up to the school, a committee of adults stood waiting. Alfred recognized the principal, assistant principal, guidance counselor, school psychologist, and two other people who floated around the school sometime who he couldn't give a title to. Al knew they were late (judging purely from the lack of other buses in the lot, not from anything like a _watch_ ) but did arriving a little late _really_ warrant all these adults?

Apparently not, because as soon as they got off the bus the assistant principal headed straight for Ivan. Once Ivan caught sight of them, he froze in his tracks and grabbed Alfred. Like Al could help with so many _teachers_ around. Despite that, Alfred stepped in front of Ivan and put his arm out in a defending way.

The principal (Mr. Crouthenal?) smiled down at Al. "New friend, Alfred?" Alfred nodded but didn't back down from his stance. "Yes, he's very new. So new that he doesn't have a class to go to, so please let my staff test him and decide which class is best for him."

Al agreed, mostly because arguing with the _principal_ would result in unavoidable defeat. He lowered his arms and stepped aside to let Ivan pass. "It's okay, maybe you'll be in my class!" He let the principal step forward to guide Ivan away. Ivan looked over his shoulder as he was led toward the building, still nervous to leave the only person he encountered that morning to show him any kindness. Al gave him his brightest smile and a thumbs-up before the other adults crowded around him and Al lost sight. He looked around and realized he was the only one left outside, so he hurried inside the building.

Al didn't see Ivan again until lunchtime, and by then he was pretty sure that they weren't in the same class. Of course, it might have just taken forever, like some kind of school-appropriate torture, or something.

Alfred knew something was wrong when he saw Ivan parading in with the sped kids. So, he stood up, took his lunch, and left his table of one to go sit with the special ed kids.

"Hello Alfred!" greeted the teacher, Mrs. Herdervary. "What brings you over to this side of the cafeteria?"

Al pointed. Mrs. Herdervary was a very kind and competent woman, but frankly she scared the shit out of him. Mrs. Herdervary looked. "Oh, Ivan! Is he your friend?" Alfred nodded, though he wasn't sure who she was talking about. Earlier, when Ivan introduced himself, he had said something that sounded more like 'ee-vahn'. Now, though, the teacher called him 'eye-van', and he felt certain they were referring to the same boy.

Mrs. Herdervary smiled and allowed Alfred to sit. He sat across from Ivan and watched as he pulled a small feast from his lunch bag, huge compared to Alfred's own boring school lunch. Al didn't recognize most of what the boy brought, but that didn't stop him from starting appreciatively, or talking.

"Wow! I wish I could bring a lunch like that! But I don't wake up early enough to do it before school and I'm too lazy to do it at night, haha. Plus, I'm too busy with other stuff! Like homework and MineCraft and, um..." Al trailed off as he noticed Ivan staring at him. Just staring, with a blank look on his face. "Ah. Um, did you make all this yourself? I'll bet it took forever." A small frown replaced Ivan's blank look, so Alfred tried again, pointing. "You're lunch. Who made it?" Instead of answering, Ivan offered Alfred some. Al accepted. "It's good!"

Ivan nodded and gave a funny sort of smile. "Pirozhki."

Mrs. Herdervary looked over to Alfred. "Alfred, Ivan is from Russia, and doesn't know very much English."

"Oh," Alfred said, "That's far." He looked over to Ivan. "D'ya miss it? Russia?" Ivan must have recognized something in his tone, because he nodded with a faraway look on his face.

After that, Al alternated between chatting with the other students at the table (not that they paid him any mind, not that he could even understand them) and trying to talk to Ivan. Alfred thought Ivan was weird, but not weird enough to belong at this table.

Soon after, they had gym. When Alfred saw Ivan had the same gym class, he smiled so wide that the other boys laughed at him. He invited Ivan over to change with him, even though Ivan brought no gym clothes. It was fine; no way a teacher would dock him points for not changing on his first day! But at least in the future Al wouldn't have to change by himself, like always.

Ivan looked slightly mortified as the boys got undressed, trying to look everywhere _but_ at a half-dressed boys. It amused Al a bit, but whatever. Maybe they did things different at his old school, on _the other side of the world_. So he tried to make the new kid comfortable by talking about any and everything, to a chorus of snickers from the other boys. They were probably thinking stuff like, "wow look at the teacher's pet trying to hold a conversation with the new retard" or whatever, but Al had more pressing things to worry about. Like teaching Ivan English so they could be in the same class!

And like physical fitness tests.

Alfred had been aiming for the President's Award in fitness since it started in third grade. Unfortunately, his body always disagreed, protesting at every stretch, attempted pull-up, and 50-meter run. Al thought his body more suited to sitting than anything physical. He'd hoped the appearance of Ivan would at least make him not feel as incapable as normal. He had hoped for a sort of buddy to watch the others with as they succeeded in doing more than one pull-up, push-up, and 35 sit-ups.

Perhaps it was bad of Alfred to think this, but the leading factor in this thought (beyond sheer wishing) was that Ivan looked sort of fat. Al had never seen a muscular person with a face that round, and now that he took off his sweater Al could see the indent of his naval as his stomach pushed against his undershirt.

 _Boy_ was Al wrong. Not only did his hopes vanish in a puff of smoke, but he felt like an idiot for assuming anything about this strange new kid. Sure, he only managed like, ten sit-ups in a minute (with Alfred as his partner, _of course_ Alfred was his partner! He was determined to stick to this kid like a very large tumor), but _Jesus_ he had never seen anyone do that many push-ups in the same amount of time. _What._

Push-ups weren't the only thing this kid killed at, Al discovered when they had to do suicides. Sure, Ivan wasn't the fastest (and in fact was nearly a full round behind everyone including, amazingly, Alfred), but slow and steady won the race, he guessed, after everyone – even the athletic kids – fell out and Ivan showed no signs of weariness. It went on for so long, in fact, that the teacher had to end it for the sake of time.

For the first time ever, Al couldn't wait for the next gym class. He still hated everything about doing the mandatory exercises _himself_ , but watching Ivan more than made up for it. Just, _god_ , the way all that running made his shirt ride up to expose all that soft pale flesh, how it jiggled with each step, how his clothes stuck to him when he _finally_ started sweating and his face was flushed and panting by the time they had to change back for the next class -

Anyway.

But, _if only_ that was all. Since Ivan had no other clothes except his sweater, Alfred walked him down to the nurse to see if there were any extras, or a washing machine, or something.

Alfred did not have his hopes up and wondered if Ivan felt the same.

In the halls, Alfred had to stop Ivan from putting his sweater on over his gross, sweaty clothes. "It's not far," said Al, "no one is even looking." Wrong. Everyone and their mom, it seemed, stared as Ivan and Alfred paraded down the hall. Ivan noticed. Al tried to distract him by talking about pointless things but, again, it didn't work. The flush Ivan acquired in gym didn't fade, but instead deepened into a very prominent blush.

Arriving at the nurse did not help. Alfred explained the problem as the nurse hummed and looked over Ivan, who had frozen. As she rifled through Ivan's clothes looking for a size and her stash of extras to find a match, she asked if Al by any chance knew what his friend's clothing size was? Of course he didn't! They'd only met today, and who shared that kind of information?

Finally, the nurse sighed and instructed Ivan to simply take off his undershirt and wear the sweater alone. When he didn't understand, they both looked to Alfred for help. Lost at what else to do, Al mimed taking off his shirt and switching to the sweater. Ivan got it, and did it. Right there.

Al tried to remain passive but failed miserably as he was treated to the sight of a sweating Ivan trying to work his way out of a sticky shirt. He definitely did not look at how his pale stomach hung slightly out and over his pants, how it shook and got caught on the shirt going up (and oh god, the stretchmarks that revealed!), how the sweater covered up so much but still _not enough_ \- !

Alfred decided it would be best to let Ivan deal with finding pants on his own. B-besides! He had to go to class and how could he concentrate with _that_?

In short, Alfred ditched.

On the bus to go home, Ivan found Alfred. Al thought he would be mad, but instead he frantically waved a piece of paper, looking distressed.

"What's that?" asked Alfred.

"What is?!" asked Ivan. He shoved the paper in Alfred's face. It read:

Height: 5'8"  
Weight: 190 lbs  
BMI: 28.9  
According to the Body Mass Index, your child is at risk of obesity! Please sign and return to show you are aware, and consider a healthier lifestyle for yourself and your child. Remember, the key to a long and healthy life is diet and exercise!

"Well that's bullshit. Everyone knows BMI doesn't count for crap," Al said, gently pushing the paper aside towards Ivan (who, by the way, he still felt guilty about looking at head-on, with the way his pants were squeezing him and all).

The paper was pushed back in his face. "What?"

"Chto?" And then, "What is 190? Is too high!"

Alfred, who was slowly working on the fact that maybe they didn't use pounds as a weight measurement in Russia, asked, "What is your weight? How much do you weigh?" He pointed to the 190. "What should it be?"

Ivan blushed again. "Ah...80?"

Alfred blushed too, as he did some conversions on his very cool new phone, and holy shit! How did this kid gain fourteen pounds and have no idea? He showed Ivan the screen that read "190 lbs = 86.2kg". Ivan snatched the phone from Al's hand, eyes wide and blushing hard.

"No...chto? Kak?!" Ivan said, looking down and poking at his stomach.

Al gently took his phone back. " 'S okay. I hear stress does that to some people, and I guess moving to a new country would be pretty stressful!" Upon seeing Ivan's uncomprehending gaze, he said, "It doesn't matter. Just have your dad sign it," he mimed signing, "and give it back to the nurse and that'll be all. No one will care, it's okay." He pat Ivan on the back, who looked bewildered at the sudden touch but allowed it.

Once they both got off the bus, Ivan grabbed Al's hand in an unshakable iron grip, and dragged him to his house/ Luckily, they passed Alfred's house so he could shout a quick " Going to Ivan's see you later!" to his mom, as if she would hear him from inside the house (but hey, at least he could say he tried).

Ivan's house still kind of looked like a mess, but whatever. They were still unpacking, and who wanted a spotless home that looked unlived in anyway? Not Alfred, that was for sure.

Al followed suit with dumping his backpack and shoes by the door like Ivan. He waited at the kitchen table while Ivan went off...somewhere, to do something. His older sister puttered around the kitchen, putting together a very elaborate after-school snack.

Ivan came back in a tracksuit that might have bee loose fourteen pounds ago but now fit pretty well. Judging by the way he inhaled those cookies and fancy cake things, though, Alfred guessed that might not be the case for long. He also guessed that Ivan forgot about his sudden weight insecurities from the bus, and that maybe he was staring too much because now Ivan was staring at _him_.

Al ate a cookie and thought he saw heaven.

Al kept eating as Ivan and his sister started talking in rapid-fire Russian. Ivan took out the paper that had caused so much grief not a half-hour ago. His sister read it and looked quite concerned, until Ivan started nudging Alfred. "Tell her, please. Like for me."

"Oh, uh, sure..." Al started, and pretty much repeated exactly what he'd told Ivan. His sister seemed concerned and surprised that her brother had gained nearly fifteen pounds since leaving Russia, but Alfred finished with, "But it really doesn't matter! You should have seen him in gym today: he had to have done, like, 30 suicides without even breaking a sweat! Coolest thing I've ever seen!"

As they went up to Ivan's room to maybe do homework, Alfred decided that deciding to befriend the strange new kid was a very, very good idea. There was _no way_ this would end up like the last time, no way.

* * *

 **First off, there are a few quite offensive words in here. My backing is that kids are stupid and mean, even when they don't know they are being stupid and mean. I will change them if you ask me to.**

 **This fic was trying to go so many different ways and I wrote it at so many different times in the past like, three years, that I finally just gave up and let it go this way. I wanted so much more for it but I don't think I'm qualified to push it how I wanted it to go, and besides, it's been a long time this fic is ready to be done. I think that I will maybe come back to it at some point, though, because there are bits I wanted to expand on.**

 **Now for some description and explanation:**

 **1\. I started this in like 2012 I think, and the way it wanted to go was that Ivan came from Russia and barely knew English. So the school, being cheap, shoved him into a special education class rather than invest in an English as a Second Language Program (which unfortunately happens more than it should irl). Alfred was going to befriend him and discover that hey, he doesn't belong in that class! He should be in regular ed! And then Al and Ivan were going to advocate for an ESL class and they were going to have fun adventures going through the horrors of middle school. (Also I wanted Ivan to have Asperger's because I just love the idea of him being on the spectrum so so much, but lol that didn't happen either.)**

 **Then I picked it up again in like January, and it again tried to go a different way. It did not.**

 **I started it again for the third time like on Sunday because, yo, it had been sitting on my floor for months and it was time that it at least got typed up. And it seemed the only way for me to get it done was 1. a deadline and 2. shamelessly plugging my kinks. Now I'm kind of worried that if I do ever eventually put it back how I wanted I'll have to edit a lot of the fun stuff out, so it fits more into the serious-general I want it go than the vaguely kinky that it is.**

 **2\. Al hung out a lot with the school psych and guidance counselor after his other friend (who was supposed to be Peter Kirkland!) died.**

 **3\. Physical Fitness Tests are the worst. THE WORST. Suicides are also terrible and involve a lot of pointless running from one end of the gym to the other, constantly, without a break.**

 **4\. "No...chto? Kak?!" means is "But...what? How?!"**

 **5\. Alfred is right, BMI is bullshit. It measures just general mass and doesn't account for muscle or level of activity.**


End file.
